


easy to please, hard to impress

by vain_flower



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bondage, Dom Eskel, Flogging, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sub Lambert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-10-26 12:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vain_flower/pseuds/vain_flower
Summary: Lambert works up the courage to hit up a kink club, and runs into a familiar face.





	1. i'm in a mood

“I'm not  _ freaking out _ ,” Lambert hisses.

 

Eskel’s expression of mild concern doesn't change. “Right,” he says, not arguing, but the tone of his voice speaks volumes.

 

Lambert’s eyes flick around, looking for the nearest exit. Why had he thought coming here was a good idea?

 

“I get it, you're embarrassed--"

 

“I  _ am not _ ,” Lambert lies. Embarrassed doesn't even begin to cover it. This is  _ mortifying _ . This is  _ proof that god doesn't exist _ \-- Or maybe, proof he does exist and he has it out for Lambert.  _ Christ. _

 

Eskel drags a hand through his hair. “You know everyone here is here for the same reasons you are.  _ I'm  _ here, for the same reasons you are. Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

Lambert can feel his face heat. “Yeah, whatever.”

 

He needs to get out of here. He needs to get shitfaced and forget this whole night ever happened.

 

“Do you wanna go next door? First round’s on me,” Eskel offers.

 

“Fine,” Lambert agrees, cursing his own inability to turn down drinks on someone else’s dime.

 

What's surprising, as they walk out together, is the sheer number of people who seem to know Eskel. Which means Lambert can never, ever come to this club again. Damn.

 

There's an Irish pub next door, predictably crowded for a Saturday night. The hostess recognizes Eskel instantly, waving them past all the people waiting in the entryway with a wink and a comment about his  _ reservation _ .

 

She seats them at a tiny little booth crammed into the back of the restaurant, about as private as it gets for a place like this.

 

They each order a beer, and Eskel gets an order of onion rings.

 

Their server gone to fetch their drinks, it's just the two of them, and Lambert traces the grain of the table with his fingernails.

 

“Sure you're not freaking out?” Eskel asks.

 

Lambert hazards a glance up at him,peering at the other man through his eyelashes. Eskel doesn't have the decency to look remotely abashed at having been discovered as a regular patron of a kink club.

 

“What about you?” Lambert asks. “Do you even… care that I know what you're into now?”

 

Eskel shrugs. “It's not a secret.”

 

“ _ I _ didn't know.”

 

Eskel huffs a laugh. “You never asked.”

 

The server arrives with their drinks, and Lambert wishes he’d gone with some shots. No way is beer gonna get him drunk fast enough to handle this conversation.

 

He watches Eskel take a drink. The beer is thick, nearly black, one of the stouts he always favors. Lambert’s own is an IPA, appropriately bitter for the occasion.

 

“Can I ask now?”

 

Eskel grins. “Question for a question?”

 

Lambert can't help the scowl that comes over his features at that.

 

“Relax,” Eskel says, nudging Lambert's leg under the table with his own. “You really don't wanna answer something, I'm not gonna push it.”

 

“Fine,” Lambert concedes, taking a long draught from his glass. He's gonna need another in a minute.

 

He takes a second to think of his first question. He shouldn't ask anything he can't already extrapolate. Maybe nothing too personal lest the tables get turned on him. He has so many questions that now that he has the chance to ask them, none helpfully come to the forefront.

 

“Not one for the leather chaps look?” he finally quips, falling back on his own shitty sense of humor. It's a valid enough question he thinks. Most everyone there had been in some kind of dramatic outfit, but Eskel’s wearing the same sort of thing he might wear to work: dark jeans and a gray shirt, the only leather his beat up jacket. 

 

Fortunately Eskel laughs. “I'm not really one for the fussy getup. Rather be comfortable. My turn. You ever done anything like this before?”

 

“Have drinks with a friend?” Lambert says, deflecting. “No, you know me, total homebody.”

 

Eskel rolls his eyes. “Kiera always seemed a little pushy to me,” he says, not giving it up. “Certainly tried to boss you around outside of the bedroom.”

 

“Ugh,” Lambert says, rubbing at his temples. “No. I mean, yes, Kiera was bossy but she didn't exactly-- No, I've never done this before.”

 

In all honesty, it was the bossiness that turned him off of the relationship. He really  _ only _ likes that sort of thing in the bedroom.

 

“You've obviously,” Lambert starts, and then he flounders, not sure how he wants to ask. “What about you? Um,” he says, as Eskel raises an eyebrow. “No offense but I always pegged you as hopelessly vanilla. I mean, what--  _ ugh _ . Dom, sub? Switch?”

 

Eskel laughs at the vanilla comment. “I'm a dom,” he says, simply, still laughing.

Lambert tries to wrap his brain around this new knowledge. “All jokes aside, what about you? It drives you crazy to be told what to do.”

 

Lambert drags a hand over his face. “It's hot when it's just in the bedroom!”

 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Eskel says.

 

Lambert makes a face. “And you?” he asks. “You never bring anyone around work, or mention it. But you don't… micromanage people.”

 

Eskel raises his eyebrows at that. “God, of course not. I mean, sure there are some people who are into that, more power to ‘em, but no it's…. Mostly a bedroom thing for me, I guess?”

 

“You guess?”

 

Eskel thinks about it for a minute. “Depends on the sub? Some like more structure than others.”

 

“Yeah, okay, but what are  _ you _ getting out of it?”

 

Eskel sits back in his chair, thinking about it. He runs his fingers around the rim of his glass absentmindedly. “I like taking care of people,” he finally says. “Being a solid presence for someone. Takes a lot of trust, making yourself that vulnerable. There's nothing like someone handing that over to you.”

 

Lambert swallows thickly. The words are like his own fantasy filtered through a mirror, the sentiment the equal and opposite of his own desires.  _ Shit _ .

 

Trust. There's not a person he knows who would mistake him for the trusting type. Doesn't mean he doesn't want it. He'd always kind of thought-- well, that wanting to be taken care of was  _ stupid _ , some neurosis left over from his shitty upbringing he couldn't shake off.

 

Obviously people who dom all do it for a reason, but he thought it might be something like--  _ control _ . Something he couldn't reconcile with how he views Eskel.

 

Not that Eskel’s by any means  _ uncontrolled _ ; Lambert’s always been a little envious of how even keeled he is. It's just control is something he thinks of as hard-- something to fight against, rather than something soft to embrace.

 

He goes to take a drink from his beer and finds the glass empty already. When did that happen?

 

The server drops off Eskel’s onion rings and offers to fetch him another, to which he readily agrees.

 

“What were you looking for tonight? If you don’t mind me asking,” Eskel asks.

 

“Uh,” Lambert says.

 

“You don’t have to answer,” Eskel replies, pushing his onion rings towards Lambert.

 

Lambert eats one while he thinks about his answer. “I didn’t really have any expectations? The idea was more to get the feel of it the first time before getting into anything.”

 

As much as he’d love to be the sort of person who could do a casual hook up like this, he’s got trust issues for days. Yeah he wants to get tied up, but letting a virtual stranger do it is kind of out of the question for him.

 

“What were you doing there?” Lambert asks.

 

Eskel shrugs. “I’m here most weekends, provided I’m not working. Sometimes I do scenes, but it can be nice to just hang out with other people in the lifestyle. My turn. What got you into it?”

 

Lambert takes his beer gratefully when the server drops it off. Eskel still has half of his first left. He waits patiently while Lambert drinks.

 

“I guess I don't really know,” he finally says. He can feel his face color. It’s the truth; ever since he was a kid he kind of liked getting in trouble or fantasized about being captive and helpless. “I think I've always been like this.”

 

Lambert thinks about how he wants to phrase his next question. He taps at his half empty glass, watching a bead of condensation drip down the side. 

 

“So I haven't,”he starts and then with some difficulty admits, “done this before. But I'm not going in entirely blind either. I, hmm.” 

 

Fortunately Eskel doesn't rush him, which he is absurdly grateful for.

 

“I guess the impression I had was that a lot of it is based in pain and control. You made it sound like you're not into that.”

 

Eskel laughs. “No, that's definitely a part of it. I wouldn't say I'm a sadist in the strictest sense. Pain is more of a tool, or a means to an end. I like being in charge of the experience, seeing someone through it and safe to the other side, being both the cause and the cure.”

 

Lambert realizes with dawning horror that listening to Eskel talk about BDSM is giving him a boner. 

 

“Well,” Eskel says with a grin. “Fair’s fair. What's your opinion on pain and control?”

 

Lambert feels his face heat. “I haven’t gathered enough evidence to come to a conclusion yet,” Lambert says evasively. It’s half true, anyway.

 

Eskel smiles. “Didn’t realize you were doing a science fair project. Got a hypothesis at least?”

 

Lambert laughs a little. “What’s that phrase? The only difference between screwing around and science is writing it down?”

 

“Some people are into that,” Eskel points out, draining the last of his beer as their server helpfully drops off two more.

 

Lambert chugs his, probably a few beers away still from being able to not hate himself while talking about this, but working his way towards tipsy.  “Fair enough. I mean-- I don’t know what I want. Or I do, but if we’re sticking with the science metaphor, there’s a stark difference between theory and practice.”

 

“Only way to gather data is experimenting,” Eskel says. He’s smiling and his eyes are dark and he’s  _ big _ . His hands are  _ big _ and Lambert can’t help but picture one closing around his throat.

 

Lambert waves down their server to distract himself, desperately needing another drink.

 

When they leave, Eskel ends up practically having to peel him out of his seat.  Lambert can feel the heat radiating off of Eskel, they're so close. One big, hot hand closes on his bicep and Lambert swallows thickly, letting himself be led outside.

 

The night air is blissfully cool, and he leans against Eskel, tilting his face up hopefully.

 

“So what do you think?” Lambert asks, going for coy. “Wanna help with my,” Lambert sniggers, “science fair project?”

 

“I'm gonna get you an Uber,” is what Eskel says.

 

“Dude, seriously?”

 

“You're drunk,” Eskel points out. “So go home. Drink a glass of water and sleep it off. If you can tell me tomorrow that you still want this, we can talk about it then. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Lambert agrees, but more because the street around them has started spinning. He's also pretty sure he's drunk enough that he'll have a hell of a time getting it up. Damn, he shouldn't have had those last three beers.

The ride home is a complete blur, and he sleeps like shit. Nausea is what wakes him up, gray morning light filtering through his blinds and he stumbles towards the bathroom to throw up the meager contents of his stomach.

 

He rifles through the medicine cabinet, pops a few aspirin and washes them down with water from his cupped hands.

 

He turns on the shower, crawling under the spray before it even has the time to warm up.

 

He sits in the tub, letting the aspirin and the water pounding down on him wrangle his hangover into something manageable.

 

What the fuck had he done last night? He decided finally to check out the kink club downtown but--

 

Oh no.

 

Oh  _ no. _

 

It comes back to him with humiliating clarity. He’d hit on Eskel.

 

Worse, he’d confessed some of his more embarrassing kinks and  _ then asked Eskel to indulge in them with him _ . Jesus tapdancing Christ  _ what has he done _ ?

 

He's going to have to be back at work Monday morning. Where Eskel works, too. If God is merciful, he'll get hit by a bus on the way in and it will kill him.

 

Lambert hauls himself out of the shower, leaving a wet trail to the kitchen where he fixes himself a little hair of the dog.

 

His phone is on the kitchen table, battery dangerously low. He has a message.

 

Grimacing, he checks it. It's from Eskel, like he feared. Time stamp from last night.

 

_ Let me know you made it home safely. _

 

With a groan, Lambert takes a seat at the table.  _ Not dead yet _ he types out, hitting send.

 

He finishes his drink and sets about making coffee, stomach clenching when he hears his phone vibrate.

 

_ Hate to be deprived of your wit on monday :) _

 

Lambert snorts. Before he can type out a reply, his phone buzzes again.

 

_ Dont want you freaking out over last night either. I'm down, but not if your too fucked up to consent _

 

Lambert’s whole body goes hot, then cold.  _ You're* _ he types, out of habit, hitting send. Then  _ aren't you worried about making things weird? _

 

_ We're both adults. No reason it ever has to be weird. _

 

Lambert chews his lip.  _ I've really never done this before. Not the hooking up with a coworker or the other stuff. _ It's easier to admit it through text than in person.

 

_ We're friends first. Never have to do more than you're sure about. _

 

_ Coffee?  _ Lambert suggests. He figures he’s drunkenly confessed enough to Eskel about his kinks to try to talk about them sober.

 

_ Sure ill pick u up _

 

Lambert lets out a shaky breath, texting back a thumbs up emoji before looking for his charger.


	2. new shoes and a bullet proof vest

He feels like he's going to come out of his skin. He and Eskel don't usually hang out much one on one outside of work, and a clandestine meeting to talk about their respective kinks has nervous energy vibrating through him.

 

“Hey,” Eskel says. He gets one of those big hands on the back of Lambert’s neck and squeezes gently. Lambert leans into the touch, looking up somewhat expectantly and with a smile, Eskel leans in to kiss him. It's casual, pretty chaste in all honesty, and it leaves Lambert shaking.

 

Had he really never noticed the height difference between them before? Or how fucking  _ solid _ Eskel is? He's not too bad in a fight, but Eskel could still probably throw him around and that idea is  _ way hotter _ than it has any right to be.

 

“What do you want?” Eskel asks.

 

“Uh,” Lambert says unhelpfully, face coloring.

 

“To drink,” Eskel clarifies, motioning towards the menu above the counter.

 

“Right,”Lambert says, swallowing. “Um, a regular coffee is fine. Black.”

 

He stands sort of awkwardly by the island of creamers and sugar in the middle of the cafe. The barista is exceptionally peppy; Lambert can hear her ask loud and clear  _ what can I get for you and your boyfriend _ even over the cafe’s ambient noise.

 

Better than being pissed about it, all things considered, though it's weird to be referred to as Eskel’s boyfriend when he has no idea what they are to one another anymore. Worse-- _ or better _ \-- Eskel doesn't correct her.

 

They sit outside once their drinks are ready. It's just brisk enough that no one else is outside and they can talk in relative privacy.

 

“Are you alright?” Eskel asks.

 

“Yeah,” Lambert says a little defensively. 

 

Eskel nods, not looking convinced. “These things usually go best if we're both honest. How are you, really?”

 

Lambert huffs and takes a sip of his coffee, regretting it instantly because it's still entirely too hot.  “Worried, maybe,” he says after swallowing scalding coffee.

 

“I guess I'm a little worried, too,” Eskel admits, though he doesn't look it. “You know, worried that, in trying to prove something, you'll force yourself to do something you don't want. That's probably the biggest.”

 

Lambert is torn between being touched and being annoyed. “I guess it’s more awkwardness?” Lambert tries to clarify. “I'm interested, believe me. It's just hard to--"

 

“Talk about it?” Eskel asks when Lambert trails off. 

 

Lambert nods. “I feel weird. Like the things I want are weird and I'm weird for wanting them.”

 

Eskel’s face softens. “I don't think there's anyone in the lifestyle who hasn't felt that way at least one point in their lives.”

 

Lambert nods. “It was one thing when, you know, it was just in my head. Having people  _ know _ . That's the hard part.” 

 

“Specifically that people will know you’re a sub?” Eskel asks.

 

Lambert chews his bottom lip. “I don’t know that it’s that. Maybe?” Lambert is quiet for a moment while he thinks. “Um, you know how Leo’s girlfriend fucking sexts him all the time and he does dramatic readings of them in the breakroom?”

 

Eskel laughs. “Yeah.”

 

“And he talks about their sex life in way more detail than I ever want to know!”

 

“He’s pretty open about it,” Eskel agrees.

 

“God, I would be…  _ humiliated _ if I were Becca. And that’s just like, vanilla shit.”

 

“You care about discretion.”

 

“Yeah,” Lambert agrees. “I mean, I just don’t want strangers knowing my shit, you know? Or for  _ Vesimir _ to know my shit.”

 

Eskel nods. “Fair enough.  Personally, oversharing isn’t my style, but I don’t keep secrets. If you want to do this thing, if someone asks who I’m with, I’m not going to lie about it.”

 

“Yeah,” Lambert says. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

 

“Still, discretion is obviously important to you. No play by plays of our scenes at work, but what about the Chameleon? Is exhibitionishm entirely off the table for you?”

 

Lambert rolls his eyes. “It’s hot in like, a fantasy way,” he admits. “But I don’t know. For now, yeah, I’d say it’s off the table while I get my bearings. Why, that’s not a dealbreaker for you, is it?”

 

“Not at all,” Eskel shrugs. “I’m pretty ambivalent to it myself. Some subs want to be shown off, and I’m happy to oblige, and some don’t, which is also fine. You don’t wanna be vulnerable around other people, and I get it.”

 

He nudges Lambert’s foot under the table with his own. “What matters to me is that you make yourself vulnerable to me.”

 

Lambert’s breath catches and he drops his gaze to his coffee.

 

“Think you can do that?” Eskel asks.

 

Lambert jerks his head in a nod.

 

“Half the fun is making your sub squirm, but I don’t want to make you truly uncomfortable. If I can make it easier on you, let me know,” Eskel says.

 

“I mean,” Lambert starts. “It goes both ways, doesn’t it? Vulnerability?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Can you tell me about the stuff you like? Scenes you've done?” Lambert asks. “Might be less weird for me if I’m not monologuing over here about the kind of porn I get off to.”

 

Eskel smiles. “You want to come by the apartment?”

  
  


\----

  
  


Lambert lingers in the doorway of Eskel’s spare bedroom, not quite believing his eyes.

 

Eskel is opening the closet door revealing enough gear to set up his own shop. The inside of the door itself is lined with floggers, various leather restraints and long coils of colored rope. The shelves are neatly packed with labeled boxes.

 

There's a massive bed in one corner of the room with hooks set into all four posts and a Saint Andrew's cross in the other.

 

There are hooks in the  _ ceiling  _ too and Lambert feels terribly out of his depth.

 

“Are you alright?” Eskel asks when he turns back to look at him.

 

Lambert wonders what kind of expression is on his face. “Is this the part where you tell me your desires are unconventional?”

 

Eskel shakes his head and laughs. “I don't think they're that far out there, all things considered.”

 

Lambert enters the room, choosing to stand by Eskel near the closet door.

 

“Not a sadist, huh?” he asks, eyeing the floggers hanging from hooks on the door.

 

“I said not  _ strictly _ a sadist,” Eskel clarifies. “Certainly not enough for some people’s _ desires _ . What about yours?”

 

Lambert shrugs. “I don't know,” he admits, though it galls him.

 

“Ample opportunity to find out, if you'd like.”

 

“I think I would,” Lambert says.

 

Eskel closes the closet door with a smile and he escorts Lambert out of the room with a hand at the small of his back. The touch is casual but proprietary, and it makes Lambert hungry for more.

 

“So we're not--"

 

“We haven't talked about this,” Eskel says. “At all. Come on, I can make more coffee if you want.”

 

They end up at the kitchen table, Lambert examining the swirl of milk half stirred into his coffee.

 

“Work with me at least a little bit here,” Eskel says with some measure of humor. “You just want to try a scene or two, you want sex, a relationship?”

 

Lambert can feel his face heat. “Is it okay if I don't know?”

 

“Of course it is,” Eskel says. “We can take things as slow as you want, but I want to know where we stand each step of the way. If you want something, or if you dislike something or feel uncomfortable I need to know.”

 

“Yeah,” Lambert agrees. “I mean I definitely want to try stuff, but I'm not looking to rush into anything serious. Maybe just a few scenes to start? I've never… taking things into reality doesn't always pan out, if you know what I mean.”

 

“I know,” Eskel says. “The Chameleon has a list they use, various kinks and stuff, where you can mark hard and soft limits. I can print one off and we can compare notes, come up with a place to start.”

 

“That would be good,” Lambert says.

 

Fortunately Eskel finds something to do while Lambert sits at his kitchen table going over an  _ exhaustive  _ list of kinks, some of which he has to google in an incognito browser on his phone because he’s never even heard of them.

 

Later, Lambert reads over Eskel’s own sheet with some relief, glad to see that most of their interests line up. He hazards a glance at Eskel, who is reading the form with an impassive expression.

 

“I’ve got some ideas if you’re up for them,” Eskel finally says.

 

Lambert swallows, stomach doing a little nervous flip. “Yeah, definitely. What did you have in mind?”

 

Eskel looks up at him with something of a smirk. “Some bondage, some light impact play, see how you like it.”

 

Lambert nods. “Yeah. I want-- that.”

 

Eskel places a hand on Lambert’s knee and squeezes. “Going to tie you to the Saint Andrew’s cross, give you a taste of the flogger. Is that what you want?”

 

Lambert nods again, voice completely abandoning him.

 

“You going to be okay getting undressed for me? It doesn’t have to be sexual, but I won’t lie, I’m pretty interested in making you come for me.”

 

Lambert’s breath wheezes out of him. “Please,” he manages.

 

“Good,” Eskel says, voice pitched low. “You know how safewords work? Red, yellow and green work for you?”

 

Lambert nods and Eskel gives him a considering look.

 

“I want to be sure. You said you don't mind being pushed around in the bedroom?”

 

Lambert shrugs, going for nonchalant. “Wouldn't be here if I did.”

 

Eskel looks a little skeptical. “Alright. Just giving you a heads up, there are things that I look for in a scene too, and if you don't think you're interested, I want you to say so.”

 

“Things like what?”

 

“You like being pushed around? Well I like doing the pushing. If something is out of your comfort zone, you need to tell me, otherwise, you’ll do as I say.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“When we’re doing a scene, I want you to call me sir. I ask you a question, you give me a verbal answer. You have something to say outside a safeword, you ask permission to say it. Can you do that?”

 

Lambert closes his eyes, swallows thickly and nods. One of Eskel’s hands closes around his throat, not squeezing, but unignorable.

 

“Let’s hear it then. Are you going to be good for me?”

 

Lambert wonders where all the air in the room has gone.  “Yeah,” he starts, trying to turn his face away, but with Eskel’s grip, he can’t.

 

“Yeah?” Eskel says, expectantly. 

 

“Yeah,” Lambert repeats. “ _ Yes. _ Yes, sir.”

 

He finally gets the honorific out, feeling a little dazed. 

 

“Good boy,” Eskel praises, voice not much more than a growl as he bites over Lambert’s jaw. The words send a shiver through him, and he lets Eskel manhandle him towards the back room.

 

“Clothes off,” Eskel says. “Fold them, leave them on the bed, then come here.”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, Lambert obeys. He knows he’s not bad looking-- his Tinder profile is full of shirtless gym selfies-- but he feels self conscious anyway as he steps out of his jeans, his cock tenting the front of his boxers already.

 

He shivers a little when he’s fully naked, but he approaches Eskel anyway.

 

“Sure you wanna do this? Seem awful nervous.”

 

“I'm not  _ nervous _ ,” Lambert lies. It's true he’s a little keyed up, almost trembling with adrenaline, but nervous sounds bad. “Or, maybe, but… it's a good kind of nervous.”

 

Eskel gets both hands on his hips, pulling Lambert closer until they're pressed against one another from hip to sternum. Lambert tilts his head obligingly when Eskel moves to kiss him, slow and deep.

 

“Damn,” Lambert pants when Eskel relinquishes his mouth. “ _ Damn _ .”

 

“You ready?”

 

“I've been ready, you don't need to ask.”

 

Eskel makes a considering sort of noise. “Is that right?” he asks, voice a low rumble that sends a tendril of warmth curling through Lambert's stomach.

 

Lambert jerks his head in a nod. “Yes, sir,” he says and Eskel smiles and kisses him again, easing him back towards the St Andrews cross.

 

Lambert closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths as first one wrist, then the other, are buckled to the cross. 

 

“You want a blindfold?” Eskel asks.

 

“I think so,” Lambert says. “Yeah. Sir.”

 

It’s easier when he can’t see, silk around his eyes keeping him in the dark.

 

“We’re going to start off easy,” Eskel says, voice floating in the room. “You decide it’s not for you, that’s okay, my feelings aren’t going to be hurt.”

 

That’s all the warning Lambert gets. He hears the flogger before he actually feels it, tendrils snapping against his chest in little bright bursts of almost pain.

 

It startles a gasp out of him, and before the sensation gets a chance to fade, Eskel strikes him again.

 

Lambert lets out a shaky groan. He can feel heat building under his skin as Eskel starts working the flogger over his chest in a figure eight pattern.

 

He’s leaning into it as much as he can, relishing the building sting when all of a sudden, the flogger cracks down on his thigh, startling a yelp out of him.

 

“ _ Bastard _ ,” Lambert grinds out between his teeth.

 

Eskel is quiet for a moment. “I must have misheard you,” he says. He pinches one of Lambert's nipples between his fingers and doesn't let go, making Lambert twist and swear. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Lambert gasps out.

 

“You're sorry  _ what _ ?”

 

“I'm sorry, sir,” Lambert corrects himself, sagging in relief when Eskel releases his hold, dragging his thumb softly back and forth the abused skin.

 

“You won't swear at me again,” Eskel says and Lambert nods.

 

When the flogger comes down next, it’s no longer a tease. He barely has enough time to register the sting of one strike before the next one lands, and with the blindfold, he has no idea where to expect each blow.

 

It leaves him a shaking mess, fingers clenching at empty air, desperate for something to hold on to.  His skin feels like it's on fire everywhere the tendrils of the flog graze him. If he could open his eyes, he wouldn't be surprised to see sparks flying each time he's struck.

 

His breath shudders in and out of him.

 

“What’s your color?” Eskel asks.

 

It takes a little effort, but Lambert manages to gather the scattered pieces of his brain together long enough to parse the meaning of the words. If he could catch his breath, he could even answer.

 

“You want some water?” Eskel asks, and Lambert nods.

 

A straw is brought to his lips and he drinks gratefully.

 

“You still with me?” Eskel asks. “I need your color.”

 

“I'm green,” Lambert says, slurring a little. “I’m green, sir.”

 

Eskel hums softly and kisses him.

 

Lambert lets out a shocked cry as the next moment Eskel’s warm, calloused hand closes around his cock, stroking him slowly. He hadn’t even realized he was hard, but now it’s all he can think about.

 

“Fuck,” Lambert says, brain not coordinated enough to keep kissing as his hips try to rock into the friction.

 

“You want to come for me?” Eskel asks, breath hot against his ear.

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Lambert says emphatically. “Yes,  _ please _ .”

 

Christ, it's just a handjob, it has no business feeling this fucking good, but he's fucking shaking all over, it's  _ so good _ .

 

Lambert nearly chokes when Eskel sinks to his knees, replacing his hand with his mouth. His arm jerks, instinct demanding he slap a hand over his mouth to silence the whines he has no control over. He sobs, Eskel takes him deeper and swallows and that's  _ it _ .

 

He smacks the back of his head against the wall hard enough he sees stars, or maybe that's just the orgasm that leaves him gasping for breath.

 

Eskel unbuckles all of the restraints and is helpfully there to catch Lambert because he feels like a fucking puddle. He's talking, but Lambert can't really focus on the words. Nothing sounds like a question, at least, so he lets himself drift as Eskel manhandles him over to the sofa.

 

He's so out of it he can't even complain when he's hauled sideways into Eskel’s lap. He just curls up and tries to remember how to breathe.

 

He doesn't know how long they stay there like that but finally English starts making sense to him again, and the rumble of Eskel’s voice forms into words.

 

_ Incredible, so good for me, thank you for letting me take care of you _ and a dozen other little praises that make him flush. He hadn't even really  _ done anything _ . 

 

He pushes away from Eskel slowly, not quite able to meet his eyes.

 

“How are you feeling?” Eskel asks gently, and Lambert’s first instinct is to bristle at the words.

 

He feels drained, not in a bad way necessarily, and like he hasn't finished climbing entirely back into his own skin.

 

“I think I need a shower,” he finally says, and doesn't recognize his own voice.

 

“Alright,” Eskel says. “Get a shower, get dressed, and I'll have some food ready for you when you're done. Then if you're up for it, I'd like to talk.”

 

Lambert groans. “I suck at talking.”

 

“It's important,” Eskel reminds him. “I just need to know you're okay.”

 

Lambert looks at Eskel through his eyelashes, surprised at the concern evident in his face. “Still in one piece.”

 

“That's not what I meant,” Eskel says.

 

Lambert nods. “What-- what can you possibly get out of this? Now that the scene is over, I mean.”

 

“I know how much you hate being seen as vulnerable--"

 

“I'm not asking what I'm getting out of it,” Lambert interrupts. “Don't be evasive.”

 

“I'm not,” Eskel says. “This isn't… something I'm doing  _ to  _ you, but  _ with  _ you. There’s no line delineating what you get out of this and what I get out of it. Alright? You hate being vulnerable and you did it anyway. That's what I get. I kind of get the feeling you're dropping hard. And that's okay, it happens. But I'm not gonna leave you feeling raw. Talk to me about it, please.”

 

“Still want a shower.”

 

“Of course. Take as long as you need.”

 

\--

 

Lambert stands under the spray, quietly wondering if he's freaking out. Is he?  _ Should _ he be?

 

Mostly he feels moody and self-conscious, so, totally within the normal range for his own emotions.

 

He feels like he's descending into a  _ mood _ , the kind where he starts sniping at people for no good reason.

 

He grinds his teeth. He knows very well he drives people crazy when he gets like that, but never crazier than he drives himself because he can never make himself  _ stop _ .

 

He shuts off the water with a little growl and towels himself off before getting out of the shower. He brought jeans and a white tee with him. He tugs them on and after a moment’s hesitation goes in search of Eskel.

 

“Are you actually cooking?” he asks, hearing the sizzle of butter and the hum of the fan above the stovetop. “Figured you'd just rustle up some sandwiches or something.”

 

Eskel frowns slightly. “Well, I  _ am _ making sandwiches,” he admits and when Lambert comes around the corner, he sees Eskel is making grilled cheese sandwiches in a stainless steel frying pan.

 

He serves it with tomato soup and they eat on the couch, sitting close enough to touch. It's really one of the better meals Lambert has had, and certainly the best (maybe the only? Now that he thinks about it) post-sex meal a partner has ever made him.

 

He feels a little closer to human by the time their dishes are in the sink. Eskel rejoins him on the couch, looking serious.

 

“Can I touch you?”

 

“Do you really have to ask?” Lambert asks, a little awkwardly. 

 

He lets Eskel pull him close, melting into his side after a moment.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Better than earlier,” Lambert admits.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“I could just… tell I was getting that way I do.”

 

Eskel rubs his back with a big, warm hand. It feels nice.

 

“Thank you for holding back,” he says.

 

Lambert snorts. “Thought it would be shitty to get… like that. Afterwards.”

 

“Wouldn't’ve held it against you. Drop can make people say all sorts of shit.”

 

“And you'd just let it go?”

 

“I'd ask you to talk about it. I've seen subs get all out of sorts when they drop. It may be a reason, but it's not an excuse.”

 

Lambert sighs. “What about you? I mean, you're okay too, right?”

 

“Uncomfortable, maybe, being on the other side of the veil again.”

 

Lambert can't meet his eyes. “I mean, you're right about the-- vulnerability thing. It's hard. Harder? To know now that you know.”

 

“I understand. If you don't want to do this again--”

 

“I do,” Lambert says quickly. “Shit, sorry, I knew I'd fucking,” he waves his hands in the air, “make it weird.”

 

Eskel smiles, drags him in for a kiss that steals his breath away.

 

“And maybe let me return the favor next time?” Lambert asks against Eskel’s mouth.

 

He can feel Eskel’s smile. “If that's what you want,” he says.

 

And Lambert  _ wants. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me awhile, but it's least it's long-ish?
> 
> Please feed me comments :v

**Author's Note:**

> This is a weird fic, but I got the idea and it won't leave me alone. If you like it, let me know.


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